


Dear Calum

by wanderaway



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderaway/pseuds/wanderaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>....i dont even know</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Calum

Dear Calum, 

I wish I could tell you that I was okay. I wish I could tell you that I understand why you did what you did, and I forgive you. Although, I guess I can’t forgive you, when I was never really mad. 

I’m a mess. It seems I have just made all the wrong choices since you left. I’ve filled myself with nicotine and alcohol, to the point were my lungs are black, and my eyes are bloodshot red, and no one knows what to do, Calum. No one knows what to do because no one needed to know what to do. Because you were there. 

Most nights I can’t even eat. I try to push the food down, but it just comes right back up, My stomach always has this weird feeling in it, like I’m hungry, but no matter what I eat, it just won’t go away. 

There are cuts lining up my arms. It’s gotten to the point where they are jagged and scratchy, because frankly? I don’t care enough. I don’t care if one day I bleed out, and one day I keep bleeding and bleeding. I don’t care because I have no one. I have no one to bleed on. I have no one to wrap the wounds in gauze, and let me cry on their shoulder. 

When you threw yourself of that bridge that night, did it occur to you that you were throwing me off too? Did it occur to you that when your heart stopped beating, maybe mine did too. I died when you did.

Damnit Calum, you were like a brother to me. You were a part of me. You were my other half. Probably my better half.

And it makes me pissed. It makes me pissed that you thought you could just fling yourself of that fucking bridge and we would all be okay. You left us to pick up the broken pieces. You left us behind to stare at the dead body in the coffin, that had your eyes maybe, but was definitely not you.

The thing is, out of this all, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I thought you were okay. That I thought the smile on your face was real, and the laughter your breathed was real, when you were hurting inside your chest, pretending and wearing this mask hiding yourself from me. Me! When did we start hiding ourselves from each other? 

I’m sorry I let you bleed. I’m sorry I let you bleed and I’m sorry I didn’t let you bleed on me. I’m sorry that I never asked you if you were okay. I’m sorry I never realized how you smile didn’t reach your eyes or how you had gotten skinnier and skinnier, to the point where you were just bone. 

I always assumed you smoked because you liked the taste of nicotine in your mouth. You liked the way it burned your throat, and the way it felt to breathe in. Thats not why is it? You liked to smoke because you liked how the cigarettes turned your lungs black. You liked it, not because you weren’t afraid to die, but because you wanted to die. 

it has taken me too long to realize that there is a difference between not being afraid to die, and wanting to die. 

I remember one night, you were laying behind in your backyard, with your eyes closed and a flower crown around your head. 

I had come out for you, telling you how Michael and I had been texting you, and were worrying because you weren’t responding.

You had shrugged your shoulders and mumbled something about how your "phone wasn’t on.” 

I remember sitting beside you, in the piles of grass, plucking some out, and sticking it on your stomach. I remember how your eyes looked pained and I remember asking you if you were okay.

I remember how you had smiled a little, and then responded, “ I will be."

Since you left, the months have just been weeks, and the weeks have just been days, and the days have just been seconds leading to nothing. 

Leading to absolutely nothing. 

And that is the worst part. 

Maybe the second worst. Nothing can beat seeing your dead body in the coffin. Your skin was pale. Not as pale as mine, but a close second. Your lip had spots of dry blood that were faint, covered with make up. You were smiling. It was a twisted sick fucking smile, like you knew you were torturing everyone, like you were finally happy, and the corner of your eyes crinkled like the never ever did before when you smiled with me. 

I’m not okay. And I won’t be. I can hear your laugh and see your smile and feel the warmth of your cuddles every time I close my eyes. I can’t even pick up the guitar since you left. I can’t bring myself to sing, because every time I try to open my mouth, I just sob. Because my voice is nothing without yours. 

My eyes are permanently red, and stained with tears. Most days, I just go home and sob into my pillow. Sob - not cry. I ran out of tears a long time ago. 

I’ve written and rewritten different drafts of this letter. I’ve saved them, and then deleted them time after time after time. So, here goes nothing. 

I’m going to leave this on the swings in the park at the end of your street. The creaky swings in the abandoned park. It was our park. The swings have gotten creakier since you left, and the view from the top of the space net is not nearly as good. The sky that seemed to melt into shades of orange and yellow and pink is now a cold hard grey. 

Maybe the letter will just get rusty, and maybe it will be devoured with the rain, like it was never even there.

Maybe someone else will find this letter, and read it, but not understand it, because no one can understand this other than you.

Goodbye Calum. At the moment, it seems impossible to close my eyes without seeing your face, but one day it will happen. 

One day you will be a picture on my phone that someone will ask me about, years from now. I will laugh and smile and probably cry a little thinking about you. I won’t tell them how you were everything to me, and how I was nothing without you. Instead I will just smile and say, “he was only just a friend."

Love always, Luke  
P.S. you still owe me twenty bucks!!

**Author's Note:**

> this really sucks okay bye!


End file.
